


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by newtisgood (gurajiorasu)



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurajiorasu/pseuds/newtisgood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Glade was suddenly snowing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Set when Newt was still a Runner. Yeay.

“There’s nothing more, Newt,” a young Slopper said. He was panting and his cheeks were bright red.

The Glade was snowing and no one seemed to be prepared for that. Everyone was freezing and freaked out. Chaos was just around the corner.

“Go to Frypan, ask him if he has aprons or anything,” Newt said.

The Slopper stole a glance to Minho who was in the bed and nodded before leaving the room.

Once the Slopper was gone, Newt looked up briefly to the Med-jacks and said, “You two better go too. Help Nick and Alby checking on the other Runners. Make sure they don’t catch a cold. Then, distribute anything warm that we have to everyone.”

One of the Med-jacks hesitated, “But–”

“I can handle small cuts like this one. I’m not as klunked as you think I am,” Newt said, gesturing to the open wound on Minho’s temple.

The Med-jacks glanced at each other and obeyed. They told Newt what he needed to do with Minho’s wound but Newt dismissed them instead, insisting that he knew enough. When a chaotic sound was heard from outside, they rushed out without thinking twice.

Newt closed the door, sat back on the edge of the bed, took the cloth to clean Minho’s wound, and sighed, “You’re _stupid_.”

“Thank you very much,” Minho replied sarcastically before wincing away from Newt.

Newt held Minho’s head still with his other hand and mumbled, “The others were smart enough to get back once it started snowing.”

“I didn’t see why I should.”

“And that’s why you tripped on ice,” Newt pressed Minho’s wound hard to make his point. Minho groaned and swatted his hand but Newt was strong enough to fight Minho, “You’re lucky you didn’t pass out, y’know?”

“I could have managed,” Minho muttered but even himself was not so convinced about it.

Newt sighed. Again. He finished cleaning Minho’s wound and proceeded to the scratches on Minho’s jaw and arm. His voice was tired when he said, “Slim it, okay? I don’t want to fight now.”

Minho didn’t reply to that, giving his agreement with his silence. His eyes darted to anywhere but Newt as a result of guilt that was building in him. He was being a pain in the ass, that much he knew.

Newt noticed the gesture and he gave Minho a break by lowering his tone and starting a new conversation, “What do you think is happening?”

“I don’t know but it sucks,” Minho groaned, “It’s freezing out there.”

“It’s freezing here too,” Newt added. He gestured to outside with his head, “Sloppers have been piling up blankets and jackets, we don’t have enough.”

“Fire?” Minho offered an idea.

“Snow’s too heavy outside and we can’t risk getting this shack made of woods burnin’ to ashes,” Newt said while putting bandages here and there. He creased his forehead at some point and touched Minho’s skin with his fingers briefly while continuing his talk, “Years of nothin’ but sun and suddenly–” Newt abruptly stopped and pressed the back of his palm to Minho’s forehead. The crease on his forehead got deeper and he put everything aside before ducking down and pressing his forehead to Minho’s.

“Whoa, aggressive, aren’t you?” Minho commented but it came out rather flat and he stayed still.

“Fever, Minho,” Newt clicked his tongue. He got up and left the room without any other words.

Minho was left alone and confused. He touched his own forehead, oblivious of his own body temperature. He did feel a bit dizzy, but he thought it was because the Maze’s floor just gave him a friendly kiss. Minho groaned, feeling devastated that he was sick. He had been in that shuckin’ place for what seemed to be forever and that’s the first time that he got sick.

Minho’s head wandered at the snow for a bit. The Maze felt different with the snow. It felt less intimidating, but much harder to run on. Nothing was different beside the dropping temperature and Minho started to wonder if it’s okay for them to keep running the next day. His little accident had proved that it was a bit more dangerous, but Minho still didn’t think it was a good enough reason to stop what they had been doing since forever.

Minho tried to figure out what would work for them. Probably they could send Runners in pairs, so they could still explore at least half of the Maze while avoiding the probability of slipping and passing out alone. But then, the temperature would still be a problem. Maybe they could run with layers of jackets on, but it would limit their movements big time - it could only work if they actually had that many of jackets anyway. Or probably they could–

“Stop thinking, I can hear your brain working from downstairs,” Newt stopped Minho’s train of thoughts. He brought in a piece of blanket and a mug of something steaming. He put down the blanket and handed the mug to Minho, “Tea, from Frypan. Nontoxic, I’ve drunk half of it.”

Minho sat up and peeked into the mug; it was indeed half empty. “How sweet of you,” Minho said before gulping the tea down. It warmed him until his toes and he was grateful for that.

Newt snickered and spread the blanket. He took the mug from Minho once it’s empty and put it away. Then, he commanded, “Off the clothes, Min.”

Minho raised his eyebrow, “I don’t think this is the best place and time to–”

“Clothes are wet,” Newt cut. He was freeing himself from his wet clothes too. When he saw that Minho started to do as he was told, Newt continued rambling like they’re not about to be almost naked, “I swear they’re doing this on purpose. They sent jackets and blankets last week, but it’s far from enough. They want us to fight over those or something, those bastards.”

“And so?”

“So Nick and Alby are being strict with the blankets and jackets. They’re wrapping two boys into one tight roll of misery, even. Runners get the jackets at least until the clothes are dry and comfy, and Winston is trying to make fire in the Bloodhouse – Slicers gonna huddle up there,” Newt gathered his and Minho’s clothes and wrung them together before spreading it by the window to air, “Gally will try to make a fireplace that won’t burn the whole place down tomorrow. Until then, we’re a tight pack of sardines in a can.” Newt walked back to the bed and sneaked inside the blanket, dragging Minho with him. He made himself comfortable by pressing their bodies together and soon, they felt nothing but warmth.

They sighed contently once they found an arrangement that worked for both of them. Newt’s head was tucked under Minho’s chin and their limbs were woven together. The blanket was wrapped nicely around them and the other’s skin was certainly more comfortable than wet clothes.

“Heard that Runners get the jackets,” Minho said after a while, his voice was thick with tease.

“Gave ‘em to Nick and Alby because I have a noble heart,” Newt answered to Minho’s chest.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re not sick. I am.”

“And leave a gigantic heat pack named Minho alone? No way. You’re warmer than Frypan’s food.”

Minho chuckled, “You sure are making an advantage out of this mess, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” Newt snuggled closer to Minho.

Minho smiled. He pressed more of himself to Newt and said, “Thanks.”

“Hm?” Newt hummed as if he didn’t know what Minho was saying.

“For getting out of your track to get me,” Minho put all of his sincerity to the words.

Newt took a moment before answering, “You’re lucky that I know your section as much as I know mine, ya Shank.”

Minho laughed. He caressed Newt’s hair, “I’m... sorry?”

“Great, the world is going to end soon. Minho is apologizing.”

Minho ignored it, “You know that you might get a cold too by doing this, right?”

Newt freed his head from Minho’s chest and squinted up to Minho, “What? You prefer those _flimsy_ jackets? Want me to call one of the Med-jacks to replace me? Want me to call Gally here, huh?”

“What? _No_ ,” Minho buried Newt’s face back under his chin, “Geez, Newt. I was just worried.”

“Then shut your hole and just sleep,” Newt grumbled.

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?”

Newt made a face and rolled out from the bed, “Alright, I’m so done with you. I’m calling for Gally.”

Minho caught Newt’s hand while laughing and pulled him back to the bed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll go to sleep. I swear.”

Newt went back to their position with a dash of annoyance and reluctance. Minho kept his words, not saying even a syllable anymore. Soon, they fell into lulling silence and their breaths became steady.

Newt opened his eyes. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at Minho’s sleeping face. Minho was obviously tired and a little bit pale. His body temperature was getting better but he shivered a bit from time to time.

Newt’s eyes softened. Deep inside, he found the will that Minho had for completing his task no matter what so endearing. Minho sure could be unbearably stubborn sometimes, but it was always for a good cause. For that, Newt adored him.

Newt gently raised his body up a bit and landed his lips on Minho’s. He let it lingered for a couple of seconds before going back to his position, giving Minho his goodnight kiss anyway.

Minho deserved it, Newt argued with himself in his head.

Newt was still smiling and about to close his eyes again when Minho moved, stopping Newt’s heart at once.

It was with a smirk when Minho said, “You’re so going to get the cold.”

Newt kicked Minho so hard that Minho fell from the bed.

Yes. He deserved that too.


End file.
